


when I dream, I dream of you, and it's terrifying.

by Iris_Quincy_Rosewood



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fire and Blood, Graphic Description, POV Jon Snow, Read at Your Own Risk, Terrorism, This has turned out a lot scarier then I anticipated, This is a story of roughly connected drabbles, Wartime, mad queen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 15:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18943330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_Quincy_Rosewood/pseuds/Iris_Quincy_Rosewood
Summary: He was too far away to reach her, the only thing he could do was scream. He told her to take cover, and their eyes connected. That was what would haunt him the most, the way her blue eyes had softened, how her mouth had relaxed from its grimace into a tranquil smile. She'd taken one step towards him, and then dragonfire rained down upon the crowd. When he could finally force his eyes to look, blackened bodies were all that remained where she once stood.





	when I dream, I dream of you, and it's terrifying.

He's just cut down another Lannister soldier when he sees her, hair shining in the sun, _kissed by fire_ , he remembers Tormund saying so long ago. No, she can't be here, not now, not ever. She's on her knees with her head hanging low over the body of a young man, his brown hair matted by blood and ash, his chest concaved. How? How were they here?  _No, it can't be them, it can't._ His little brother, just dead in the street? Cold, calculating, _precious_ Sansa cradling Bran's lifeless body nearly brought Jon to his knees as well. Just before he started to push and shove his way to her, a young woman came up behind Sansa, her ash covered _northern_ armor glistening with blood. The hairstyle, so like his own, the sword at her hip... He cursed every god he could think of for allowing them to be here. Arya tried to pull Sansa to her feet, and she rose unsteadily after touching her forehead to Bran's. They started to make their way through the crowd, farther away from him. How had his entire family gotten here? Could they just be his imagination, a trick of the mind? But no, the gleam of the sun on Needle and the waves of red hair were so familiar and dear to him, he could never mistake it. No Northernman should have been here today, especially not his family, and if somehow they made it through and crawled out of the ashes, they'd never step foot in this gods-forsaken place again. 

Still tracking the receding head of auburn hair, he shoved, kicked, and slashed his way through the Lannister forces and then the crowds. He tried shouting for them, but it was no use, there was too much screaming already. Just to his right, there was a young man, better described as a boy, that was holding a young girl in his arms, her head turned to the crowd. A fallen rock, or maybe even a sword, had torn apart her face and broken her skull, a single pale blue eye staring up to the sky, empty of life.  Her hair spilled like black ink down the boy's arms, and he clutched her to him as people continued to push against each other, trying to get anywhere but going nowhere at all.  Wrenching his eyes away from the horrific sight, he realized he'd lost Sansa and Arya.  Terrified now, he continued to push on, trying in vain to find them again.  A screech in the distance caused nearly the entire crowd to fall on their knees, covering their heads or their children.   _Daenerys would love this,_ he thought vehemently,  _seeing all these people on their knees._ He took the opportunity to weave through them all, stepping on hands, heads, and backs until he stood where he'd last seen his cousins.  He tried screaming their names one last time, looking around frantically for any sign of them.  _"Jon!_ " He spun around so fast he nearly fell, searching and searching, and there she was. Covered in ash and a bloody gash adorning her forehead, but unmistakably Arya.  He bolted toward her, crushing her against his chest and letting out a dry sob of relief. "Where did Sansa go, Arya?" He only received a whimper. Releasing her, he immediately seized her shoulders, shaking her as he repeated himself. "Where's your sister? Where is Sansa!?" She shook her head, wide eyes flying around looking for Sansa. "We got separated," she wheezed, hand going to her head. Letting out a panicked breath, he grabbed Arya's hand and together they pushed through the crowds, searching for a glimpse of red hair or a flash of Tully blue eyes. 

Breaking into a relatively large clearing of people, they continued looking. He wouldn't give up, but every second he couldn't find her his chest grew tighter. "Jon, Jon it's her! There she is!" His heart lurched as his eyes followed the point of her finger. The breath rushed out of him at the sight of Sansa, half in relief and half in horror. She was bloodied, her hair no longer red but a more muted orange with the added layers of dust and ash. Her blue eyes were devoid of emotion, as they almost always were, but this time he could feel in his bones that it was because of the savageries of war she had most definitely witnessed, he had seen them himself.  "Let's go." He grunted, shoving away a screeching woman missing an arm, blood smearing all over him as she tripped and fell.  Jon spared the woman one glance of pity and then set his sights back on his mission. He couldn't get to Sansa fast enough, the crowds were too thick and there was no telling when Drogon could appear.  A noise of desperation escaped his throat, and a wave of resolve came over him seeing Sansa pushed and shoved around, the crowd closing in around her, much as the men did at the Battle of the Bastards for him. He repressed a shudder at knowing exactly how she probably felt right now.  They were steadily gaining on her, but still too far away for her to hear their calls. Arya wrenched his head down to her level, practically screaming in his ear. "I know a way we can cut around the crowds and get ahead of her, maybe she'll see us."  He looked one last time at Sansa, memorizing her altered features before giving Arya the go-ahead to lead them. 

They had just managed to come out on the other side of the courtyard, and he immediately saw her, pushing against the crowd in vain, her mouth twisted in pain as her arm was pinned between two unidentifiable bodies. Baring her teeth at them like a feral animal, he could've sworn he heard her growl over the commotions.  He would have found it amusing had the situation been different... he was suddenly reminded of the only unadulterated childhood memory he had of her. Robb and Theon were the evil princes holding her hostage as he and Arya played knights and saved their princess. She had laughed when they raced away together, Arya tugging her hand and him protecting their flank, the sound so light and bell-like that years later when he couldn't sleep, the wind howling against the Wall and the day of training still echoing in his aching muscles,  her laughter would return to his mind. 

Snapping back to reality, he joined Arya again in calling her name. They were about a house length away from her, and hope had just started to grow in his heart. No one heard Drogon's approach. The scream tore out of his throat unbidden, and somehow, she heard him. There was nothing he could do except tell her to take cover. He screamed and motioned, but it was like she was frozen. Her icy eyes had thawed into pools of clear water, her mouth melting from a grimace to a tranquil smile. Her hand stretched toward him, and it was like the sun had cleaned her of all the grime in her hair and on her face, auburn hair shining and sleek, smooth pale skin unblemished by blood. He took a step toward her, even though that meant closer to the ever approaching Drogon. It was like she was pulling him to her, two magnets coming together. She'd just taken her first step towards him when a shadow passed over her, and then the fire came. The screams lasted a moment before they cut off abruptly.  The sound of wingbeats receding and the square was bathed in sunlight again.  He couldn't look. He wouldn't.  His eyes lifted even as he fought to keep them focused on the ground, like it wasn't even Jon that was controlling his eyes, but someone else. All the people once standing and pushing were now on the ground, charred black and still smoking.  _Oh gods_ , he could feel the tears slipping down his cheeks, she was still standing, hand outstretched, but it wasn't Sansa, not anymore. This thing was a scorched black body with hair glowing like embers cascading out of its skull, eyesockets flaming, mouth open in a never-ending screech of agony.  She advanced toward him, other hand coming up and forming the shape of his neck.  He cried out -

And jerked awake, the howling Northern winds outside his hut carrying with it the ghost of her laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what I can improve on and what you liked! Drop a comment if you feel like it <3
> 
> Cheers ~


End file.
